Elegy
by Objective Mistress
Summary: Loss. If they could take just enough of that crushing weight off their love, things would be better. Maybe then they could survive long enough to live through this.


**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** ~1300

**Summary:** Loss. If they could take just enough of that crushing weight off their love, things would be better. Maybe then they could survive long enough to live through this.

**Author Note:** This piece was inspired by _Elegy_ by John Barnes Chance. I don't usually do this, but I highly recommend you listen to the piece as you read. I really think it heightens the experience, and I wrote the fic listening to it also. Yeah, this is pretty bleak folks.

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"It's not your fault."

The phrase was being tossed around so often, it hardly held weight anymore. It was something people said as they failed to meet their eyes, the mass of their own sorrow pressing them into the ground. Everyone seemed to be like that lately. Their shoulders slumped with grief that manifested in chains draped around the neck that threatened to pull them to the floor in a powerless heap.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

The mourners would stumble over the words like Kaya used to over her chubby toddler feet. They shuffle by, content that they have said their bit and shed the burden of having to say _something_, anything_._ Just enough to show that they care, but not too much that they be grabbed, lest they sink with the ship that is taking on water faster than it can be pumped out.

"I…"

Her mother used to say that it was "the thought that counts." His used to say something similar he is sure, but the details are long lost to time. If anything, the mourners that can't muster a brave face long enough for a sentence are the most like them. Unable to cope. At a loss. Falling faster and faster with no bottom in sight.

"Mako, Korra…Kaya was so young…only two…"

The couple frowns, hands clasped in one another's. Hey hold each other for stability, their knuckles white. She clenches her jaw. He tenses his shoulders. And, like they had for the rest of the seemingly endless parade of grievers, they say nothing. There are no words. They had spent hours upon hours trying to find them. But words are hard; one has to pick the right ones and put them in the right order and hope that the result comes out somewhat close to what is felt inside.

To say nothing, however…well silence conveys so much and so much and so little at the same time.

But silence isn't always easy.

Korra finds the silence difficult in their apartment, the coos and giggles of their daughter absent. The quiet in what used to be Kaya's room is suffocating, and she nearly chokes anytime she manages to get through the door into the now vacant nursery. At night it's even harder. Nightmares chase after her and always catch up. They grab her by the ankle and drag her back to _that moment_. Every. Single. Night. She wakes up screaming and crying. Not even the embrace of her husband is enough to quell the sobs that wrack her body.

Mako can't help but hate the silence also. A crushing noiselessness draped over them as a second blanket every evening when they crawled into bed side by side. The other officers at the station averted their gazes when he finally comes back to work, too uncomfortable to exchange even idle pleasantries. When he gets home and Korra is asleep, the shadows begin to play tricks on him. The shade cast by even the dim lighting in the room looks like a toddler walking in, but disappears after a double take.

"If there's anything I can do…let me know."

The couple nods, lips pressed into firm lines; it's the closest to a smile they can get nowadays. What could they anyway? Neighbors, co-workers, family, friends, and random citizens bring them meals. They cover at work. They offer to help pick up the costs of the funeral.

But in reality, all they want is their daughter back. They want her laugh, her smile, her giggle, her cries, and the squeeze of her small hands. If one measures potential in time left, then Kaya had so much stolen. They were robbed that night.

Life goes on…somehow.

Korra stays home. Going out is a trial she is not yet ready or willing to face. She paces. She sleeps. She stares blankly into walls and listens mutely to the radio. Her Avatar duties lay forgotten among the other pieces of wreckage that was once her life.

Mako incessantly goes to work. The higher-ups won't let him work on his daughter's case, but that doesn't stop him. He needs to find out what man or men did this. He needs to find them. He _needs_ them to face justice, or pay from his own hand. Either is fine in his mind. And the work keeps him away from places that remind him of Kaya.

Quiet.

Stillness.

Sometimes, silence gives way.

"It's my fault!"

"No it's not!" Mako grabs her by the wrists. "This was not your fault, and it never will be!"

"How is it not?" Her legs gave way under her weight. He catches her before she crashes into the floor. "I-It was my job to protect her. Our daughter!"

"Korra—"

"I-I couldn't protect her…those men…" tears well up in her eyes.

He hugged her to his chest as he knelt by her side on the floor. "You did your best for Kaya every day."

"No!" She pushes him away hard enough to send him sprawling. "They attacked us. They beat me, the fucking Avatar! They grabbed her, and tested their new 'bending removal' device on her. We didn't even know if she was a bender yet. They fucking killed her in front of me! She died crying 'mommy' and I couldn't do anything!"

"The Neo-Equalists are insane love—"

"That doesn't make it any less my fault! If I can't protect our own daughter, how am I supposed to protect this city or this world?"

"Well I should have been there too!" He's on his knees, "I was supposed to take the day off with you but work got in the way! If I had been there maybe this wouldn't have happened!"

In some sense, each knew that shouldering the blame would help the other. If they could take just enough of that crushing weight off their love, things would be better. Maybe then they could survive long enough to live through this.

Every time he looks at her, he sees Kaya.

Every time she looks at him, she sees Kaya.

Loss. Once set in action, it seeps and slithers into every crack. Greif freezes, expands, and pushes apart those doused in its misfortune until they crack. Once cracked, things never fit back together in quite the same way again.

"You're always at work!" She yells.

"I need that! I need to stay out of here. I need to be away from it all or I'm going to go insane!"

"I _need_ you!" Korra grabs him by the shirt. "Half the time you come home I'm asleep already!" She sobs.

He knows the only way she sleeps nowadays is with the aid of an herbal cocktail from Pema. Not even exhaustion is enough to let his wife sleep.

"I-I'm sorry…" tears track down his pale face. "I just didn't know and I was trying to get through this."

"We lost our daughter." Her words hang in the air like mist.

"She's dead…"

"What do we do now?"

That would take time. Time moves far to slowly, ticking past at its own seconds' pace. But this was all they had. And sometimes, life gives more than one can handle.

Perhaps some day they would figure out how to live again and together.

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**Author Note:** Blame the piece of music.


End file.
